Presumed Dead
by HollowAvarice
Summary: During the Second Titan War, Michael Yew fell from the Williamsburg Bridge and is presumed dead. What his fellow campers didn't know, is that he was swept away by the Spirit of the East River with the numerous demons and traitor half-bloods to the depths or Tartarus. Now Michael has to climb out of the pit and get back to his friends and family.


Presumed Dead

Chapter 1

A pulse went through his body as he snapped upwards. He screamed in pain as the pulse focused on his leg, he looked down and saw a large pool of blood forming right below his left leg. The blood mixed with the water that dripped off his body. He was soaking wet, as if he dove through the ocean to get here. A bone fragment had pierced his skin. He received training, this was in his blood so to speak, he forced the bone back into place as he screamed in pain. He tore a large section off his damp jacket and wrapped it around the wound. He placed his hands on the leg and focused solely on the bone reconnecting. He could feel the fragments moving inside him, knitting themselves together. This was new, he had never been on the receiving end of a healing like this.

He did a quick scan of the few meager things on his person. Strapped to his back was an empty quiver, didn't expect much, he ran out of arrows during the battle. In his left pocket was a cell phone, not his, but the one he was using at the time. No reception, of course. In his right pocket was a plastic bag with two small crushed cubes. Ambrosia, in all there heal-y goodness. He took the first one from the bag and popped it in his mouth. It tasted like chicken, the kind his mother used to make. He felt warmth rush down to his leg. The tear in his leg begin to heal. At his side, amongst a pile of rubble he found the top portion of one his arrows. The tip was celestial bronze, perfect for taking care of monsters. The shaft was long enough to hold, he could use it as a knife or dagger if need be. He would need a weapon, this would have to do for now. He looked up at the sky, it was a mix of black storm clouds and blood red spikes hanging down, as if there was a ceiling covered in thousands of red blades pointing down above the cloud cover. The spikes were dripping some sort of black slime, like oil. The ground look like simple stone, but it emanated heat. The wind was harsh and felt like needles on his skin. His name was Michael Yew and he was trapped in hell.

He remembered the battle on the bridge. An army of monsters had invaded Manhattan, he and friends and brothers and sisters were defending the city. The Williamsburg Bridge. That's were he was. The Minotaur came, he was so strong. Percy was there. He fought, he won, but the bridge was shaking. It was too much, and he fell. Straight into the East River. It was a miracle he survived the fall. He felt something wrap around him, like a slick wall of semi-solid water. Something that looked a giant seal made of water and garbage was ripping him downwards. He could barely see through the muddied water, but he saw walked looked like monsters and chunks of boats being pulled down as well. He was dragged down and slammed into sandy floor, and slowly pushed through it. Then darkness followed.

Michael examined his surroundings. Mostly the warm stone, light brown in color, like you find on a mountain or in the desert. He made his way up to a decent vantage point, dragging his leg, it would be a day or two before he was up to snuff. The rocks were slanted upwards, and at the apex of each rock was another rock that was raised higher, forming a staircase of sorts. Michael could not tell what was behind the stone staircase, but he could tell what was at the bottom. The staircase dropped off two steps down, forming an incredibly steep slope. The black ooze dripping from the ceiling, poured along the cliff, running down, deeper into the pit. The pit dropped down too far into the darkness to see what was any further down. The only way Michael could go was up.

It was a pain walking on a now partially-broken leg, but he didn't have the luxury of time. One cube of ambrosia. He would probably need it for later. When he reached the next step he hoisted himself up. The stone was quite hot to the touch, a noticeable increase from the previous stone. The closer he moved to the third step the warmer he felt. The majority of he damp jacket had dried the further he walked. At the next step he tested his. He reached his hand out and placed the back of it tentatively against the next step. He jerked it away reflexively. The heat had increased quite a bit. It seemed the further he moved up the steps the hotter they got. He placed his now dry jacket on the step and used as a cover as he lifted himself up. He increased his pace now as slowing down would mean dehydration in a matter of minutes. Only a few steps remained before he reached whatever was on the other side.

He quickly threw down his jacket and darted up onto the next step, when he heard a familiar sound. A hissing combined with the sound of something being dragged. He quickly dashed behind a boulder as he looked out. The intense heat was now burning his back. From the corner of his astute eyes he spotted a Scythian Dracanae, a snake woman pacing (as much a woman with the lower body of snake could pace) back and forth in front of the next step. It seemed like she was pondering how to climb the next step. Her scaly skin looked burned and agitated from the hot stone. That's when Michael noticed something glinting at her hip. A lopsided belt rested at the section where her human half met the snake portion. Tied to the right side was what looked like a dagger poking out of a small satchel. Her back was to him, he had to move quickly. The wind was blowing deeper into the pit, she wouldn't smell him coming. He gripped the dagger in his left hand, his thumb resting against the arrowhead. He leapt forward.

His right hand quickly clenched the dagger while his left went around her neck. He pressed the arrowhead against her throat. She released a low hiss before he cut her off.

"Listen closely," He emphasized his point by pressing the dagger slightly harder. He drew the dagger from her sheathe and held it to her back. "I will kill you if you do not cooperate. Now tell me monster, where are we?"

Truth be told the Dracanae was nervous until she heard his final words. Then she could not help but release a slight chuckle. "Really little godling, is it not obvious, yes? We are in Tartarus, the end of all things."

This had confirmed Michael's fears. Not Hades, far worse. "How do we get out of here? Be specific."

The dracanae grew more bold with each passing second. "Yes, little mortal, trapped in a den of demons. I will admit you had me shocked when you grabbed me, yes, but here in this place, there is no death." She pressed her body forward allowing the arrow to cut into her neck, she spun around revealing a large gash in her abdomen. "This is where we monsters reform after death. But you...quite the anomaly, yes? A living man, well boy, in the realm of the dead." The serpent smiled. "So tell me boy, what do you plan to do?"

Michael took pause. He brought the arrow and dagger to his sides. His mind was moving a mile a minute. He needed to remember all of his training. Put together everything he knew about monsters and Tartarus without skipping beat. "You monsters...even when you die you always come back. That means there is a way out. How do I get there?" He was serious, she could tell from the look in his eyes.

"Very well, I will tell you. Yes, but on one condition. But you must swear on the River Styx to fulfill it." Michael paused. He needed the information, but a oath on the Styx was unbreakable. His soul would literally be on the line. He thought to his training 'Hit the target, no hesitation'.

"Very well, tell me your terms" She was taken aback by his quick response.

"I will tell you everything about how to get out of Tartarus, on the condition that I go with you, and once we are out you let me go free. Good, yes?"

Michael knew this was coming. She was turning him into her own personal bodyguard. He didn't have a choice as far as he could see. "Very well, I swear on the River Styx that as long as you guide me out of Tartarus, I will do you no harm. Now tell me our path to escaping this place."

The smile grew wider on her face. "Yes, you see there are many levels of Tartarus. We are currently on the eighth, the Cliffs of the Forlorn. Beyond here is the Valley of Darkness. After that we must climb the Great Spire. We come out in the Prison of Tartarus. From there we need to make a little pit stop at the Black Pools, yes, a very important pit stop. We then face the Mountain Trials, the Fields of Misery, and finally the Pit. But once we get passed all those lovely tests we'll be in Hades, from their I can escape, and you can find your way back to the living world. Yes, a good plan."

Michael had almost immediately regretted his bargain. No. He didn't have time for doubts.

"Yes. Then let us begin our little quest. Oh yes, I am Mora. What is your name godling?"

"Michael Yew." He was short and concise. He knew what needed to be done. A war was still brewing. He needed to return home.


End file.
